Sara's Child (18 page)

“I had heard most of that,” Ben confesses. “And I had sort of heard that your mother had died. But that’s about it really.”

“My mother was murdered,” she clarifies, “and I was in the room when it happened.”

Ben gasps loudly, realising the significance immediately. “You were left alive by the murderer and stayed with her while she died?”

The smile she gives him is ugly and sneering. “You could say that…or you could say that a performance was given especially for me.” Catherine can see that Ben is full of questions but holds a hand up to stop him voicing them. “Just let me tell it my own way,” she reiterates then begins again.

“I was home alone, when the man broke in. He didn’t seem to know I was there, at first. My mum was working just down the road, and I prayed she would come back soon.” That prayer has haunted Catherine for years. She has blamed herself for wanting so desperately for her mum to come home and make whoever was in the house go away. Has believed she somehow wished it all on her. “Anyway,” she shakes off the unpleasant thought, “she did come home, and she did confront the man. But he just laughed, grabbed her and brought her into the bedroom where I was hiding under the bed. After taping her hands and feet to the bed and putting more tape over her mouth, he raped her.” She hears Ben’s muffled, “Oh my god,” but ignores it.

She doesn’t tell him how the bastard hurt her mum so badly that she screamed the whole time, or that instead of climbing out from under the bed to help her she’d curled herself up in a ball, closed her eyes tight and put her hands over her ears.

“I don’t know if he knew I was there the whole time, but as soon as it was over he reached under the bed and pulled me out by my feet.” Catherine furrows her brow, trying to recall that part of the memory. “I can’t remember ever making a sound, he just seemed to know I was there; and that’s when the nightmare began.” She takes a deep, steadying breath before carrying on. “I don’t know where he got the tape – brought it with him I suppose – but he used a lot of it to tie me to a chair. He forced my legs open, commented on how lovely my white cotton knickers were, then taped each leg separately to the outside of the front legs of the chair. I was so exposed, so terrified of what I thought he might do to me.” Her sudden, self-deprecating laughter made Ben jump. “Sorry, I just can’t get over it even now – I was so busy worrying about me that it never occurred to me that my mum was still in danger; never occurred to me that the son-of-a-bitch might actually kill her.”

Shaking her head in wonder at her own selfishness, Catherine takes a second or two to swallow a huge ball of shame before she can continue.

However, Ben beats her to it. “Are you crazy?” Ben is on his feet now, not attempting to go over to her or offer comfort, he knows she won’t tolerate that. But he will be damned if he’ll let her carry the blame for what some monster did or for any thoughts of self-preservation she might have had. “Are you totally nuts?” Catherine winces at that but realises Ben is unaware of her time in psychiatric care and isn’t about to clue him in. Pacing angrily up and down the small room he finally comes to a stop at the foot of her bed. “Just how old were you when this happened?”

“Ten,” she replies, “or near as damn it.”

“Ten,” he repeats incredulous. “And you’re seriously telling me that you think a ten year old girl could have done anything to stop that maniac from doing exactly what the hell he pleased? He’d have snapped your pretty young neck in a heartbeat, by the sound of him!” he grinds out, angry on Catherine’s behalf.

Catherine appreciates his anger. No one has ever gotten angry on her account before; well, except Logan, she has to admit if only to herself. “Do you want to hear the rest or do you need to rant some more?” she asks quietly.

Ben shakes his head and retakes his seat saying a very quiet, “Sorry, won’t happen again.”

“Ok, well, I’m not going to go into too much detail about the rest of it…I just can’t right now. Suffice to say, after taping my legs open to the chair I was sitting on, he forced my arms around each side of the high back and taped my hands together real tight.”

Catherine remembers the pain and unconsciously rubs at them. “He tore off another piece of tape and fastened it across my mouth…though I don’t know how he got it to stick the tears had been flowing the whole time and never stopped. Then he pulled my mum up by the hair, her eyes were closed, I wasn’t sure if she was pretending or if she really was asleep – I didn’t realise till much later that he’d knocked her out cold.”

Another gasp from Ben gives her pause, but Catherine is determined to get it all out. “He dropped my mum back on the bed then actually left the room. I was amazed. Was that it? Was he really gone?” She looks at Ben then. “That’s when you could have called me crazy,” she tells him with a knowing shake of her head. “I actually believed the son-of-a-bitch had gone, but he’d only gone as far as the outer hallway to get his tool bag. Then he brought my mum’s small coffee table in and set his terrible instruments out in precise rows right in front of me.”

Ben’s hand flies to cover his mouth, his grey eyes growing wet with tears that he is fighting valiantly.

“My mum was still out of it, and by the way he looked at me I knew they were meant to hurt me. I had never been so terrified in all my young life. I think he enjoyed that.  He’d pick them up in turn, opening blades and cutting a piece of paper to prove how sharp they were. Or he’d open and close various types of pliers and cutters – I know now that some of them were the type of cutters you would use for pruning roses, or some such happy shit. Anyhow, he waved them right under my nose and told me, in detail, exactly what he was going to do with each tool, then moved over to my mum’s bed and began cutting her toes off one by one.”

She has to stop. Her chest is so tight she can barely open her lungs enough to take another breath. But she does, and the next and the next. She can’t look at Ben now; knows she can’t hold it together much longer and seeing his shock and horror will only heighten her own.

“As I said, he put plenty of masking tape over her mouth before he raped her, and taped each wrist and ankle to the four corners of the bed. She couldn’t move and she couldn’t scream; at least not loud enough to make anyone else but me and that monster hear.”

She does look up at Ben then, too lost in the horror of her tale to see his freely flowing tears. “I don’t know that it could have been any worse to hear those screams right out loud; her eyes told me everything I didn’t want to know. She didn’t have any knickers on; he’d ripped those off during the rape, and I thought he might rape her again.” Catherine’s head is already shaking when she says, “He didn’t, but what he did with those tools of his was much worse.” Her mind gradually returns from the hell she’s had to relive in the telling of her mother’s suffering, enough to focus on why she is telling Ben in the first place.

“I don’t know where Logan and I stand with each other as of tonight,” she explains, “but we’ve been doing a lot of computer digging in an attempt to track that fucking monster down. But…” Catherine lifts both her hands palms up in the air then lets them fall into her lap in a helpless gesture.

Ben draws a tissue out of his pocket, wipes his eyes and cheeks then uses what is left to blow his nose. He cannot believe it, he looks at Catherine and her eyes are dry. Her shoulders and back are uncharacteristically slumped, but other than that, she is keeping herself together a lot better than he is.

“I always knew there was something deep and dark and seriously disturbing in your past, but, I never dreamed…I never put your surname together with that terrible murder.” He states, somewhat bemused. “I can remember my mother was terrified of her own shadow after that. In fact, all my mates’ mums were the same, come to think of it.” His head is shaking at his own stupidity. “I should have put it together; I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t matter. What I need to know is will you help me to find him? Can you help me, without hurting yourself in the process?” She is desperate and yes, she has to admit, selfish enough to take advantage of Ben’s first-class tech’ skills if he is willing to offer them.

“I’d do anything for you,” he tells her honestly. “There’s no point beating about the bush, I’ve already told you that I’m in love with you, if all I’m allowed to give you is my time then it’s yours…as much as you want of it, and more if you ever change your mind about us.” He had to keep that option out there. Although, in his heart, Ben already knows that she just doesn’t see him that way. He, of course, will never see her any other way.

“Let’s keep the status quo the way it’s always been,” she pleads softly. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I don’t want to lose that. If we can manage to ride this out there’s no reason we can’t carry on the business and become even more successful. I know you put the idea of taking on more staff forward months ago, and I’m going to give it some serious consideration; even more so as I won’t be back in the office until this is over.” She didn’t realise she was going to say that; but now that she has it seems like the best way to go. “In fact, just do it Ben. Hire whomever you think is best. You always have held the financial reins of the business, why stop now?” She is actually smiling now, a new positive surge coursing through her veins. “Use my
office; it’ll fit two at a pinch, if you think that’s what we need.”

Ben smiles too. “We’re going to need bigger premises,” he observes with an ambitious glint in his grey eyes, “pity we didn’t think of it sooner.” When he sees Catherine wince, he changes the subject quickly. “I bet you don’t even know how much is in your own bank account?” he teases, lightening the mood.

“Do too,” she responds rashly, then plucks a figure out of the air that she thinks might be somewhere in the ballpark. “Must be nearing my first million by now,” she jokes, “unless you’re not as good at the finances as you’re always telling me you are?”

“Not even close,” he scoffs at her pathetic guess. “And I’m even better than I let on – try 14.5 million,” he states with no little satisfaction when her mouth gapes open. “Better close your mouth I saw a fly in here earlier.”

Catherine laughs, then hesitates, then laughs again. “You’re not kidding,” she says stating the obvious. “Just how much do we charge for our services – it has to be exorbitant whatever it is?”
Well fuck me, who’d have thought!

“One day, when you’re really interested, I’ll take you through it all in detail. Until then, let’s get back to the business at hand. Why now?” he asks. “Your mother’s been gone for something like fifteen years, what’s caused you to start looking for him now?”

She tells him about the man she heard talking with Logan at Lakelands, about his distinctive voice and how it had shaken her to the core when she’d recognised it.

“Ok, so Logan told you who he is and did a lot of digging into his background and whereabouts at the time of your mother’s murder; and he was out of the country, you say?”

“I don’t say,” Catherine corrects, “I didn’t do the digging – but I do trust Logan in this. I don’t believe he would have told me that unless he was one hundred percent positive.”
But then I didn’t believe he’d ever go behind my back to find my dad, and a sister I never knew I had. This love crap stinks!

“And tonight…?” Ben asks.

Catherine eyes him, trying to decide if he is prying for personal reasons or genuinely trying to help. She decides on the latter and tells him what had transpired at Arthur Kingsley’s retirement party.

“So, you don’t think Logan believed you when you told him you’d heard that same voice in close proximity to where you and he were sat,” Ben summarises, the inflection in his voice casting Logan in a very poor light.

“I suppose you could say that,” Catherine admits reluctantly, then unexpectedly comes to Logan’s defence. “I wasn’t exactly behaving rationally at the time. He probably had good cause to think I was having some sort of auditory hallucination. In fact, he told me I’d got my ‘Colson’ head on as opposed to my ‘Catherine’ head,” she smiles nervously. “He has this theory that when I’m in a mood or misbehaving, as he calls it, that’s when I have my Colson head on. Conversely, my Catherine persona is supposed to be all sweetness and light and only mildly argumentative.” She gives a loud snort then stops short when Ben actually agrees.

“I’m sorry, my lovely, but he’s got you down to a tee,” he admits grudgingly. “Now, where do we go from here? Can we get a copy of the guest list by legitimate means? Or do we need to do a bit of ‘off record’ digging? I’d go off record,” Ben advises, “you never know who old man Kingsley, or his son if he hears you’ve been asking about it might, even innocently, divulge that information to. Why take a chance on it being the one person we wouldn’t want to know?”

Catherine gives an almighty yawn that sounds a crack in her jaw. “I’m sorry, Ben, hold on to that thought and any others you have for finding out more information.” She yawns again and her sore eyes begin to water. “I need to lie down before I fall flat on my face. I can’t remember ever feeling this tired.”
Not even after an athletic sex session with Logan. No, stop that. Don’t even go there!

“You’re expending a lot of nervous energy would be my best guess,” he says as he walks to the door. “Will you be coming into the office tomorrow – I don’t mean to work, but we will need to discuss this a lot more?”

Catherine turns her face up to the ceiling. “Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! I forgot to mention, my car’s still parked on Logan’s drive, any chance of a lift in the morning so that I can pick it up?” She cringes as she asks knowing Logan’s house will be the last place Ben would want to go.
Fuck!